Mystery of the Dìomhran
by Minch
Summary: Enterprise is ordered to take a civilian from Vega to Earth. But there are mysteries and secrets they uncover on the way. Rated T for now to be safe, but could drop down to K-plus. **UPDATE** On semi-permanent hold. Don't expect an update soon, if ever.
1. New Orders

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** Set in late season 2, so spoilers for seasons 1 and 2 events, as well as character details that don't come to light until seasons 3 and 4.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

**Latin translations:** Domus= home, Ventus= wind, Frux= fruits of the earth, Diluculo= dawn, Ignotus=unknown (really does mean that!)

CHAPTER ONE

'Why exactly are we doing this?' Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker III looked up from his pasta and steak at Captain Jonathan Archer.

Archer took a sip of water before answering. 'Because the admiral ordered us to,' he replied, as if that explained everything. It would have explained everything to any crewmember BUT his outspoken Chief Engineer.

'I know that, but WHY? This is a star-ship, not a goddamn taxicab!' That gripe earned him a reproachful glare, but Commander T'Pol intervened, replacing the forkful of salad she had been about to eat back on her plate as she spoke.

'Mr Tucker's question is valid. It is not logical for a starship to grant passage to civilians.'

'Don't forget the time we evacuated Ambassador V'Lar from Mazar,' Archer put in. T'Pol gave him the Vulcan version of a withering look, a single raised eyebrow. She most definitely had _not_ forgotten that misadventure.

'All I'm asking is why he or she can't get home another way,' Trip said. 'There's a few high-warp shuttles running between Vega and Earth.'

Archer interrupted the argument again. 'Trip, this is classified information, and if you're going to be so insistent, I'll tell you. But,' he looked at both Trip and T'Pol, 'neither of you are authorized to divulge this info to anyone else. Do I make myself clear?'

Trip got the picture and said 'Aye, sir.'

'Of course, Captain,' T'Pol answered.

'Alright. What do the two of you know about Vega colony?' Trip opened his mouth to protest the evasion, but closed it when T'Pol spoke up.

'It was originally a human colony built on the previously uninhabited Vega IX. Now, it is an integral base of interstellar trade.'

'Right. The founders were firm on the decision to limit development to one continent, Domus,' Archer said, naming the main continent. 'That was a main point of their charter. Only science teams have access to Ventus, Frux, Diluculo and Ignotus.'

'Such foresight is logical,' T'Pol commented.

'Ok, having a few uninhabited continents for studying is all very good and well,' Trip drawled, uninterested in the history lesson. 'But what does this all have to do with our orders?'

'Patience, grasshopper,' Archer countered, quoting one of his old science teachers. 'I'm getting to that. Anyway, one of the teams on Ignotus has been hit with a case of Vegan choriomeningitis.'

'Oh brother, that stuff is _not_ good,' Trip interjected.

'Just about everyone, including the lead scientist, Michael Nobel, is laid up with it. I spoke with him a little bit this morning.'

'Does his team require medical assistance,' T'Pol asked evenly.

'No, they're already on the mend. But that's not what they're worried about.' That earned an incredulous stare from Trip and a slightly raised eyebrow from T'Pol. 'Dr Nobel's more worried about his niece Aspen. She hasn't come down with it yet, but he really wants to get her out of there.'

'Why not just send her to the mainland?'

'They don't want to expose the rest of the population. Besides, the Vegan colonial government is looking to keep this pretty quiet; they don't want a panic on their hands. That's also why they don't want any medical help; it would draw too much attention.'

'Now that is one of the stupidest things I've ever heard! Why go to all the trouble to cover it up? News like that is bound to leak out.'

'They think it'll hurt business more if they disclose the news than if they hush it up. Look Trip,' Archer's tone took a gentler turn. 'I don't think it's going to work either. But Vega isn't under the jurisdiction of Starfleet or Earth.' He met Trip's blue-eyed, exasperated glare and T'Pol's brown-eyed unaffected look squarely. 'Both of you understand why this info stays between us?'

Both of his officers answered yes. Trip picked up his argument where he left off, this time a bit subdued. 'I guess that rules out the shuttles, right?' Archer nodded as he speared his last pieces of pasta and steak. 'So, Starfleet Command wants _us_ to take her home,' Trip conjectured.

'Right. As Admiral Gardner put it, it will be a gesture of goodwill to Vega. Once we get to Earth, everyone on board will get five days of shore leave. We'll also be stocking up supplies, running a few small overhauls, maybe even an interview or two,' though Archer's expression plainly said he'd be hiding out from the reporters every chance he could. 'All of the major media sources have been begging Starfleet for a chance to talk with us.'

'I'd rather scrub every plasma conduit in Engineering than go through that,' Trip said meaningfully as he dug into his now cold dinner.

'I fail to see why routine maintenance is preferable to interviews,' T'Pol said, making both men ruefully smile.

'You have never seen chaos until you are surrounded by reporters who hang on to your every word and scream at you to smile for the camera,' Archer remarked, picking up his water.

'Oh yeah,' Trip said once he finished swallowing his bite of steak. 'I remember once, just before we left Earth, I was just sitting out on the beach watching the sunset when this reporter walked up to me and said she wanted an interview. She didn't ask, she **demanded** it.' Archer chuckled while Trip continued. 'No matter what I did, no matter how many questions I answered, she wouldn't let me go. I finally gave up and just took off down the beach. She tried to follow, but she was wearing high heels. By the time she stopped and took them off, I was long gone.'

'Where will our guest be staying,' T'Pol asked in a mildly exasperated tone. 'Even at warp five we would not reach Earth for nine days, thirteen hours, forty-seven–'

'Alright, alright. You don't have to spell it out, T'Pol,' Archer said mildly. 'I've already had some guest quarters set up and furnished on G-deck. There's some empty rooms down there Captain Jefferies insisted on being built for that eventual purpose.'

'I'd best be gettin' back to the engine,' Trip said as he stood up. 'Don't think we'll be able to do warp five all the way to Earth, but we'll make good time.'

'See you 'round,' Archer mentioned as Trip headed out the door. Once he was gone, Archer turned to T'Pol. 'Any thoughts on this turn in our mission?'

'One: I assume that our guest is not a child, therefore she will not be required to share quarters with a member of the crew.'

'You assume correctly. Dr Nobel didn't have time to tell me her exact age, only that she could stay alone.'

'We should take additional precautions against a possible epidemic of Vegan choriomeningitis.'

'I know. I've spoken with Phlox, and he believes that if he inoculates Aspen and the crew, we'll get through it without any trouble.'

'Nonetheless, it would be wise to also prepare the decontamination chamber in the event that she does become ill.' Archer was about to argue, but realized that there wasn't any logical explanation for not being prepared. 'If you will excuse me, Captain,' T'Pol said as she stood up. 'I have some business that I must attend to.'

When she was gone, Archer stood as well and walked over to the window. Some people said that looking out of a starship while it was going at warp made them uncomfortable, but not him. Just looking at the stars, whether from a planet or here, helped him think. This mission was not normal, even for _Enterprise_ and all of her escapades. Of course, he was always glad to lend a hand, but something about this made him a mite uneasy. Maybe it was the whole damned secrecy, or about the way Dr Nobel had acted. He could swing by the galley and talk to Chef about it.

Chef was washing dishes with Crewmen Cunningham and Taylor when he came in, carrying the dirty dishes from the Captain's Mess. 'Ah, Captain! It's lovely to see you.'

'Good evening, sir,' both crewmen said simultaneously. They made room without complaint for Archer at the long sink as he rolled up his sleeves and picked up a plate to rinse off. All of the galley crew had long since stopped objecting to having an extra hand around, be they captain or crewmen. They spent the next half hour or so chatting about everyday stuff and planning the next week's menu as they cleaned the dinner dishes. Archer lost track of the conversation once or twice, but managed to stay on his feet.

Once all of the dishes were dried and stored, Chef sent the non-coms off to sweep and mop the mess hall. He pulled a stool up for Archer and gestured for him to sit. 'So, what is it?'

Archer was distracted and, to tell the truth, half asleep on his feet. 'What's what,' he asked back. Chef gave him a gentle smile.

'Whenever you come here and start doing an odd job, you're worried about something and need an outlet.' Archer grimaced, half out of exhaustion, half out of frustration that Chef was so astute. 'And by the looks of it, it's a confidential matter that you're not allowed to talk about with anyone, right?'

Archer looked at him blearily and said, deadpan, 'Then what am I doing here?' That earned a warm chuckle from Chef. 'You will keep this to yourself, won't you?'

'Of course,' Chef said like he was surprised Archer would even **think** the contrary. Archer proceeded to tell him everything he'd told Trip and T'Pol. Chef listened without interruption, only sitting down on another stool and pulling out a grimy pot, a rag, and some polish.

'One thing that I can't understand is why I'm so edgy.'

'Well,' Chef began as he continued to buff the pot. 'Like Commander T'Pol said, it isn't at all normal for a Starfleet vessel to grant passage to civilians.'

'But we've done plenty of stuff that would never be classified as **normal** by anyone's standards. I never felt like this, except for that time we were evacuating Ambassador V'Lar from Mazar.'

'But there was good reason to be nervous then. She was charged for criminal misconduct. That's a lot for anyone to swallow, especially because she was a long-time ambassador **and** a Vulcan. And it turned out to be a ruse to get her off of Mazar anyway.'

'So why am I stressed out over Aspen? Is it just an unconscious suspicion that this mission might turn out like that again?' Chef's only answer was a shrug that seemed to say "You tell me." 'Well, I'm gonna go now. Thanks for listening.'

'The door's always open,' Chef called as Archer went out the door. It wasn't far from the galley to his quarters. Once in, he sat down on the floor and petted Porthos for a little while. After a while, (he'd lost track of time, he was so tired), he stood and climbed into bed, only bothering to take off his boots and not the rest of his uniform. Porthos jumped up and settled down next to him. Normally Archer tried to dissuade him of jumping on furniture, but tonight he was just too dog-tired, no pun intended, to send Porthos off to his own bed.

His last waking thought before plummeting into unconsciousness was that he suddenly knew why he felt uneasy: Nobel had been acting like he was hiding something.

**TBC**

The grasshopper quote is really from one of _my_ old science teachers.

For those of you who don't know, Captain Jefferies has been established as a canonical character, but in real life he was Matt Jefferies, the set and models designer for the original series.

And as always, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please.


	2. Intrusion

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** I decided to adjust the time period to mid-fourth season. Nothing in the previous chapter contradicts this change, and there are about five months in between the "Vulcan Civil War Triad", ("The Forge", "Awakening", "Kir'Shara"), and the "Beginnings of the Coalition Triad", ("Babel One", "United", "The Aenar"). Granted, there are two single episodes that occur in that time, so this story will now be said to take place in between "Daedalus" and "Observer Effect".

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

CHAPTER TWO

Archer regretted falling asleep in his uniform when he woke. Not that this was his only set, but all of those zippers were not exactly comfortable to sleep on top of. And the captain's pips on his right shoulder left deep, angry red marks when he managed to peel the jumpsuit, turtleneck, socks and skivvies off. Grimacing as his sore muscles protested, he ambled into the shower and turned it on. The water was a welcome relief, loosening a few knots in his back and neck. He could positively feel the grime washing away.

He allowed himself a few minutes of relaxing before he opened his eyes and squirted some shampoo out of the bottle mounted on the wall. He was exiting the bathroom wearing fresh skivvies when the comm rang. 'Bridge to Captain Archer,' T'Pol's voice called.

He walked over to the comm above his bed and answered the hail. 'Archer.' His voice sounded a bit gravelly.

'I apologize if I awoke you, sir.'

'I was awake anyway, T'Pol.' He was about to continue when he heard a small noise over the comm. It sounded like a yawn or a gasp.

'Your presence is required on the bridge, sir,' T'Pol said, a little stiffly.

'On my way,' Archer said as he turned off his end of the comm. Only then did he see what time it was: 0345. He hurriedly pulled on a freshly-laundered uniform. As he dressed, his mind ran through the conversation. Something about T'Pol did not seemed quite right. Her tone of voice and her cadence were just not like they had always been. With anyone other crewmember, a change in voice did not mean something was going on, but after hearing the same logical tone from his first officer for three and a half years, he really noticed the change.

The lateness of the hour might be getting to one or both of them, he decided as he headed out the door, fully dressed. Off to the turbo-lift he walked. He pressed the summons button and was a bit surprised when the door opened right away. He usually had to wait a minute or two for the only turbo lift on board to stop at E-deck. The door slid shut and began to move upward. It stopped, and the door opened on to the bridge. He walked straight to T'Pol, who sat quietly at the science station. 'So, what was it you called me up for?'

Strangely, she did not answer right away. She did not even seem to hear him. 'T'Pol,' he asked quietly. He put a hand on her shoulder. The contact appeared to bring her out of her daze.

'Are you alright,' Archer asked, now definitely concerned.

'May I please see you in your Ready Room?' The question was voiced mildly, but Archer could hear a slight note of something more pressing behind it. He nodded his consent and went toward the door on the other side of the room. For their credit, the crewmembers working the bridge stations paid attention to their jobs and not the spectacle, but he knew the news would fly like wildfire through the ship. He opened the door, walked down the two or three steps to another door. He opened it, went in, turned and waited for T'Pol to enter and the door to close behind her.

'So, what's going on,' he asked as she sat in a chair below the four pictures of historic vessels named _Enterprise_ and he sat in his desk chair.

'To be frank, I am not certain why I paged you, Captain,' T'Pol readily supplied. 'There was no reason for you to come to the bridge.'

Archer wrestled his disbelief at the admission down, and simply said 'Do you have any idea why?'

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at his illogical question, but continued nonetheless. 'I have a theory, Captain. I believe an outside force may be responsible.' That was all Archer let her say for the moment. He held a hand up to silence her and reached over to the comm.

'Archer to sickbay.'

Phlox answered right away, not a trace of sleepiness in his cheerful voice. 'Yes, Captain? What can I do for you?' Archer told him the quick version of what had happened on the bridge. 'Would she please come down to sickbay immediately?' All joviality vanished, and, though it sounded like a question, Archer could tell it was a medical order, one that even he could not disobey.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Computer, begin recording,' Phlox ordered the computer when T'Pol was inside the imaging chamber and scans of her brain began to appear on the screen outside. 'Patient's name: Commander T'Pol, Vulcan female,' he glanced at another screen on the counter with her medical file, 'weight: 50 kilograms, age: 66 Vulcan years.' If this was not so serious, he might add to the dictation that the females, (and occasionally the males), of several species he had encountered had a curious predilection of not wanting anyone to know their age and weight. Pushing that thought aside, he studied the info quickly. 'Scans of the brain indicate absolutely no neurological trauma. The commander reportedly paged Captain Archer to come to the bridge at 0345 this morning, but was unsure of the reason why she did so. Such forgetfulness is inherently unheard of in her case, which supports her theory that she was controlled by an 'outside force', as she termed it. I can find no medical evidence to support this.

'I am deeply troubled by this contradiction of evidence. The commander should have suffered, at the very least, residual neurological damage from such an intrusion. Previous intrusions, notably in November of 2151, September of 2152, and July of this year, resulted in significant changes in her brain. There is no reason why I should not find evidence at present.' He glanced up at the scans again and, finding nothing else to add, ended the recording. He pressed the button that opened the door and pushed the bio-bed out. T'Pol lay on it, looking quite perturbed, but smoothing her features into her customary logic.

'What is the prognosis, Doctor?'

'I would like for you to stay in sickbay under observation for a few days,' he said gravely.

'I am unhurt, Doctor, and bear no ill effects of the intrusion.' Her face twitched a little at the mentioning of the incident; no doubt she was as thoroughly, if not more, shaken by this as he was. Phlox sighed. He was not going to tell her his exact findings just yet, not until she left him no choice.

'I'm afraid that I must insist. Now, if you will just make yourself comfortable on this bed,' he said, guiding her to the nearest bio-bed on the wall.

''Comfortable' is not a word I would use to describe it,' T'Pol said, but she sat down on the bed without any further complaint. Phlox allowed himself a small smile. She was sounding more like a human all the time, especially like Commander Tucker.

"Speak of the devil", he believed the human expression was. Said commander was coming through the doors of Sickbay at a near run. 'Where is she?' he asked without preamble.

'Over there,' Phlox pointed to her bio-bed. Before Trip could hurry over, Phlox put a hand on his arm to stop him. That got Trip's attention: Denobulans did not like to touch or be touched. Whatever it was, it was something that made Phlox overstep his cultural inhibitions. 'Only a few minutes, Commander. She has gone through a lot.' Trip nodded his assent. Phlox let go and went around the corner to give them a semblance of privacy. He had noted the growing affection between them, even though they were officially "not together".

'T'Pol.' Even in that one word, Phlox still heard the love and concern in Trip's voice. 'What happened?' T'Pol gave him a short, played-down version of what had transpired. She did mention that she was unharmed. 'So why are you still here?'

'The doctor wishes to keep me under observation.' Phlox heard Trip shift on his feet a little.

'I heard from Rostov in the corridor that you were down here, but the weirdest thing happened this morning. I, I don't know, I kinda felt like something was up. Like when I wake up and the engine is down; it's like I instinctively knew something was wrong, but with what or who, I didn't know. I just got dressed and was going up to the bridge when I ran into Mike and he told me.'

T'Pol was quiet, and then said, 'I do not understand why you are telling this to me. I have never experienced what you are describing, therefor I have no counsel.'

'Never mind,' Trip said quickly, realizing he would get nowhere with this discussion. Phlox smiled again. They were possibly the most mismatched couple he had ever come across. They were also one of the most perfect because they naturally completed each other's personality. He secretly hoped that, with T'Pol being released from her marriage to Koss, they would come together again.

The few minutes he had allowed them to have had passed. He went back around the corner, careful to disguise any indication that he had overheard their conversation. 'I'm sorry, but you have to leave now, Commander Tucker.' Trip sighed and went toward the door, but not before looking back at T'Pol.

'I'll visit later.'

'Thank you,' she replied. Trip nodded, and then went out the doors.

**TBC**

Another plot twist! Sorry, but the plot bunnies in my brain just had a population boom. Hang on for the ride!

On a tangent, I've noticed that I refer to almost everyone by their given name except for Jonathan Archer. I think that's because it's only a few people who don't appear regularly that call him Jon. To everyone else, he is either 'sir' or 'Captain'. Even Trip calls him 'Captain', and they've been best friends for years.

You know the drill: REVIEW REVIEW REIVEW! Please.


	3. Revelation

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** Up to "Kir'Shara" and some details from later episodes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

CHAPTER THREE

'Computer, start recording. It's been three days since I began monitoring Commander T'Pol. I have kept her under constant observation, much to her annoyance.' Phlox glanced over at T'Pol as he dictated, and noticed that she concealed any indication that she could hear him. 'I have no reason to keep her in sickbay any further, but I do not recommend anything more strenuous than light duty for the time being.' He ended the dictation and turned to T'Pol, who was walking toward him.

'I take it that I can resume my duties, Doctor?'

'You may, but please, as you overheard, keep to light duty.'

'Of course,' she said mildly, and Phlox was fairly sure that she would be true to her word, unlike a certain chief engineer and armoury officer he could mention.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

Archer was looking over status reports, something he never did unless he was bored stiff, when the doorbell rang. 'Come in,' he called sharply. He was not in the mood to be called upon. He glanced up as the door slid open, and was pleasantly surprised to see T'Pol. 'Welcome back, Commander.'

'"Thank you, Captain. Dr Phlox has cleared me for light duty. May I resume my post?'

'Of course,' Archer replied, knowing there was not anything else _logical_ to say. He dismissed her, and when she had gone, the comm rang.

Ensign Hoshi Sato's voice called out, 'Bridge to Captain Archer.'

'Archer,' he replied as he picked up the hail.

'Dr Nobel is on a comm line for you.'

'Transfer it in here then, Hoshi.'

'Yes, sir,' she answered. A moment later, the red-haired, freckled face of the doctor appeared on the screen. His hair and freckles stood out in sharp contrast with his sickly pale face. His green eyes were sunken in. It was obvious that the normally sunburned-red man was ill, and probably should be in bed, not sitting up at a computer console.

'Captain Archer?'

'Yes, Doctor. What can I do for you?'

'I've been debating whether or not I should tell you this, but Aspen has given me permission, even requested, that I do so.'

'Tell me about what?' Maybe this was what Nobel had been hiding all along.

'Captain, are familiar you with autism?' Archer was about ask what was going on, then he realized he asked a very similar question to Trip last night, in order to bring him up to speed with the predicament. Alright, he would play along.

'Not that much, to be honest. I know it's a human disorder that affects the mind and body.'

'Quite true. No one has made any recent studies, so it's fallen out of common knowledge. Most studies were ditched when the Eugenics Wars and bacteriological warfare experiments rolled in around the 1990s. Of course, that didn't stop the slurs becoming common language: "retard," "special," and the like. The Sanctuary Districts of the early 21st century were some of the worst times for people with autism, and other mental disorders. They were crowded into enclosed sections of major cities with the homeless and unemployed when the government could no longer "afford" to help them through more considerate ways. That brought about another most offensive term: "dim."' He seemed to realize that he was harping on and on about history. 'I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't mean to rant about something that passed over a hundred years ago.'

"It's fine, Doctor. I understand." Archer meant what he said. He hated thinking about the atrocities humans committed against other humans in the past just because they were different. 'Please, continue. I don't mind at all.' Personally, he did not find it to be a most riveting subject, but it was kind of interesting. And it got him out of reading reports.

'Very well, then. Where was I?'

'The Sanctuary Districts,' Archer prompted.

'Oh, yes. Well, after the Bell Riots, the general public saw how degenerate the Districts were and abolished them. Since then, autism has generally floated out of scientific study. People still have it, but there are medicines that help regulate and control it. Also, people are generally more open-minded.'

'Alright, so what does this have to do with Aspen,' Archer asked, although he could pretty well guess why.

'I wasn't sure I should tell you, but as I said, my niece asked me to. Aspen has a type of autism.'

'"A type", you said?'

'Yes. I guess I forgot to tell you. Autism is a spectral disorder, meaning it affects people in a variety of ways and severity. Aspen has a specific type of high functioning autism called Asperger's Syndrome, and a very mild form of it at that.'

'How exactly does it affect her?' Not that he had any problem with her having autism, he just wanted to know.

'Well, she isn't very comfortable around large groups of people she doesn't know well, but she can handle one-on-one conversations without much trouble. Oh, what else?' Nobel looked down at a piece of paper Archer had not noticed before. It looked like a list, perhaps something Aspen had written for her uncle so that he would remember everything. 'She tells me that socializing is hard for her. She once described it being like a complex game in which she knows some of the rules, so she can make only simple moves. Of course, if she's comfortable with you, she can talk your ear off. But I assure you, Captain,' the doctor suddenly became very serious. 'she is **not** "retarded" in any way.'

'I don't doubt that for a minute, Doctor.'

'Thank you, sir. Again, I apologize for the history lecture.'

'Think nothing of it, Doctor,' Archer said. '_Enterprise_ will be at Vega IX in less than a day. I'll contact you then.'

'Good bye, Captain. And thank you,' Nobel added with complete sincerity before cutting the line, leaving the frequency info behind on the screen.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Liz, come on! The captain told me to get Aspen's accommodations ready, and I can't carry this alone,' Hoshi said as she indicated a large case the quartermaster had dropped off at the table she was eating lunch at. Crewmember 1st Class Elizabeth Cutler glared at Hoshi from across her soup.

'I thought they **were** ready.'

'Just have to go through the checklist again and take some more stuff down,' Liz still didn't look convinced. 'Hey, it'll get you out of the lab.'

'Alright, but only after lunch,' Liz conceded. A few minutes later, the two women were heading down to G-deck with a pair of PADDs and the box.

'So, let's see here,' Hoshi started as she looked through the list and around the guest quarters. 'Bed made, floor cleaned,' she leaned down to the desk and started up the computer. 'Access to ship's library and not the main computer.'

Liz pulled out the other PADD and looked in the bathroom. 'Towels here,' she peeked in the shower stall, 'shampoo, soap and conditioner stocked. Oh wait!' She came back out of the bathroom. 'What about clothes?'

'Quartermaster sent up some provisional uniforms, undershirts, skivvies, everything.' Hoshi opened the box they'd been carrying. 'Of course, they didn't take the time to fold.'

'Oh well, it'll keep me out of the lab for a while longer,' Liz said as she sat on the bed and grabbed a shirt. Hoshi joined her. 'So, what's the latest news on this Aspen lady?'

'Not much. Her uncle called for the captain this morning, but nothing aside from that.'

'How old is she, anyways?'

'Don't know for sure, but her uncle can't be more than 35 or 40.'

'Hey, maybe we should organize a little party in the mess hall. I mean, we've been working pretty hard. It'd be a break for us too.'

'Okay. I'll swing it by the captain, see what he thinks.'

**TBC**

I pulled a little Original Series and Deep Space Nine canon here. The Eugenics Wars, the bacteriological experiments, and the Sanctuary Districts never happened, and won't happen (_**I HOPE**_).

Hope no one minded the lecture about autism, but I'm hoping to portray it as faithfully as possible.

Of course, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please.


	4. Arrival

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** Up to "Kir'Shara" and some details from later episodes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

**Translations:** Both "slán leat" and "mar sin leat" mean "goodbye" in Irish Gaelic and Scottish Gaelic, respectively.

CHAPTER FOUR

'So, what do you think, sir,' Hoshi asked brightly. It took Archer a moment to answer.

'I think that would be a great idea, Hoshi. Thanks for the suggestion.' Hoshi smiled and turned back to her console, leaving Archer to wonder if he had made the right choice. Dr Nobel had told him that Aspen was sometimes uncomfortable in social situations. A party of any kind was about as social as you could get. It was not as if this welcoming party Hoshi suggested would become an all-out madhouse, but would it be too overwhelming for Aspen?

I'll do some research, he decided. Archer stood and walked toward his Ready Room. 'You have the conn,' he said to T'Pol as he passed her station. She walked over to the centre seat as Archer went through the side door and sat in his chair at the computer. He brought up all data in the ship's computer concerning Asperger's Syndrome.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Bridge to Captain,' Ensign Travis Mayweather's voice called through the comm sometime later. 'We're entering orbit around Vega VII, sir.' Archer was out the door and back on the bridge before Travis even finished speaking.

'Prime Minister Svensson is hailing us,' Hoshi informed Archer as T'Pol vacated his chair.

'Accept it,' Archer replied. She pressed a few buttons and the view-screen at the front of the bridge was filled with the minister's face. His blond hair hung limply about his head and his hazel eyes were framed with exhaustion lines.

'Captain Archer?' Even his voice sounded tired.

'Yes,' Archer answered.

'On behalf of the entire Vegan government, I thank you for your assistance.'

'Glad to be of help.'

'I would meet with you in person, but the other ministers and I are in the middle of a debate session,' Svensson said with a sigh.

'I take it that this session is tedious,' Archer replied. That remark elicited a tired smile from the minister.

'You have no idea. We've been at it for hours, and I only managed to get away for a few minutes in order to place this call. But enough about politics, Captain. The science team has signalled us that Miss Graybiel is ready for transport.' That caught Archer flatfooted; he had assumed that they would use a shuttle-pod to pick Aspen up.

'With all due respect, Minister, I was under the impression that we were to use a shuttle-pod.'

The question appeared to throw Svensson off guard in return. 'Oh, yes. When I said "transport", I didn't mean use of that transporter device.' He smiled again. 'I think these debates are catching up with me. I apologize for the confusion.'

'It's fine, Minister,' Archer said with as best of a disarming smile as he could muster.

'I'm sending the coordinates to your ship now, Captain,' Svensson said. Hoshi looked at Archer and nodded to show that she had them. 'Well,' the minister said. 'if that will be all?'

'Yes, Minister. Thank you for taking the time.'

'No, thank **you** for getting me out of the debate for a few minutes,' Svensson said before cutting off the transmission. Archer walked over to the turbo lift, calling over his shoulder, "Travis, you're driving this trip." Travis left his post, followed by T'Pol. Archer looked at her somewhat curiously as she entered the lift with the two men.

'I would wish to take this time to realign some scanners.'

'Alright,' Archer replied. The lift stopped on the deck where Main Sensors was, and started up again when T'Pol left.

If I didn't know better, Archer thought, I'd say she was bored of light duty. Well, realigning sensors isn't strenuous. And it's nice to have a change of scenery.

He thought about the info he had found in his research. Turns out that some of the most brilliant people in history like Einstein, Newton, Cavendish, Tajiri, Mozart, and even Michelangelo could have had Asperger's Syndrome. Who knows? Aspen Graybiel could be humanity's best author or mathematician or artist in a few years.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

Hoshi frowned as she went over the comm log from the Prime Minister's transmission. Trip, who had the conn, saw the frown. He walked over and leaned on the rail. 'What's the matter, Hoshi?' 

'Nothing. I just noticed that the Minister used a scrambled frequency when he called us. It's not unusual for a government official to use a secure channel, but scrambling?' She made a face.

'Maybe he just wanted the extra security,' Trip said. 'From what I can tell about the Vegan colonial government, they're pretty tight-lipped about–' Trip stopped himself midsentence. He had almost blurted out the truth about the government's hushing-up the VCM outbreak. '–about a lot of stuff lately,' he finished lamely.

Behind him, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed heard the slip, and he knew instantly that Trip was hiding something. As a security officer, he was trained to read expressions and voices for hints about the inner feelings and thoughts of those around him. He kept his own expression carefully guarded, but his mind was already forming a plan. With luck, he might be able to worm the secret out of Trip.

Hoshi heard it as well. She too had developed a sense for 'reading between the lines' as a linguist. At that moment, the lift doors opened and Phlox stepped out, a hypospray and several cartridges of medicine in his hands.

'Hey Doc,' Trip said. He could very well guess why Phlox was up here.

'Greetings to you as well, Mr Tucker,' Phlox replied. 'I'm just here to give inoculations.' He put a cartridge in the hypo and put it to Hoshi's neck. It hissed as the medicine passed through her skin without breaking it.

'You just missed the cap'n and Travis,' Trip told him while Phlox injected him with the antibiotic.

'Not to worry; I had two dosages placed in the shuttle-pod. The captain will know what to do.'

'Would you tell me exactly what this inoculation is for,' Malcolm asked, eyeing the hypo suspiciously.

'For Vegan choriomeningitis,' Phlox readily supplied, never one to hold back. 'The captain agreed when I asked to take this precaution.' Malcolm gave Trip a look that said "I'll get the rest of the story out of you later" as the doctor vaccinated him as well.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

Archer was a little surprised to find a hypo in the pod. Then Archer remembered the conversation he had had with Phlox about vaccinating the crew against VCM. He and Travis injected themselves before getting underway.

As they approached Vega IX, the utter beauty of the planet stunned them. Even Domus, the only populated continent, had hundreds of thousands of square kilometres of forests. To the south, Ventus appeared to be almost all desert, but, if Archer remembered right, it was actually a scrub forest. He couldn't see Diluculo and Frux, they were on the night side, but he'd heard stories about how Frux was impossibly abundant with plants and animals. Diluculo, in the arctic region, was famous for its stunning sunrises and sunsets. The fifth and final continent, Ignotus, was coming up fast. It appeared to be about the same climate and biome as Domus, only there weren't any cities on it. "Have you ever seen such pristine beauty, sir," Travis asked Archer after minutes of unbroken silence.

"A few times on Earth when I went camping or rock climbing, I thought there could never be a place more picturesque, but this place almost changes my mind," the captain replied.

"This is one of the home ports for my parents' ship, the _Horizon_. Mom would take me and the other kids planet-side every time we were here.' Travis smiled at the memories. 'I saw my first snow when I was eight. I was completely terrified of it until Juan and Charlie dragged me out and tossed me into a pile.'

Archer laughed quietly at the image. 'You wanna call into the shipping office when we get back to _Enterprise_? See if they're in orbit?'

Travis turned to look gratefully at Archer. 'Yes, sir. Thank you!'

'You're welcome,' Archer said. 'I know you miss them a lot.'

'Especially my dad.' Travis' grin fell as he turned back to flying the pod. His father had died almost two years ago, and Travis never got the chance to say good bye in person. Archer knew this, and let the subject drop. He lost his own father to Clarke's Disease when he was twelve. He fully understood the anguish of Travis' loss.

'Coming up to the landing port,' Travis reported a few minutes later. The port was fairly small, with trees and underbrush growing right to the edge. Someone stood off to one side under the trees. There was just enough room for Travis to set the pod down next to the science team's shuttles. He set the pod down without a bump. Once the engine was powered down, Archer opened the door.

The two walked toward Dr Nobel, who stood waiting at the edge of the pad. He still looked extremely pale, but haler than he had the last time he and Archer spoke. His red hair stood out in stark contrast with the foliage, and he towered over Archer at a height of at least two metres. 'Welcome, and thank you for coming,' he said to Archer as they shook hands.

'This is my helmsman, Travis Mayweather.' They shook hands as well. Nobel beckoned for them to follow.

'The base is over this way, if you will follow me, please.' Neither Archer nor Travis could see something that resembled a base, but they went after Nobel anyway. He led them a little ways through the forest, travelling down a rough trail. They came up to a hill, but instead of going around it, the trail went right up to the foot of it. They looked again, and saw a metal door in the side of the hill. 'We've nicknamed the base "Bag End,"' Nobel mentioned as he unlocked the door with a thumbprint scan.

'So you're a hobbit?' Archer asked the tall man good-naturedly.

'Of sorts,' Nobel replied with a laugh. The door swung open to reveal a young lady with a pack over one shoulder and a small suitcase at her feet. 'Gentlemen, this is my niece, Aspen.'

Archer couldn't make up his mind on how old Aspen was. She seemed quite young somehow, perhaps thirteen or fourteen. She stood around a meter seventy with short brown hair tied up in a small ponytail. Her eyes, which were a bit larger than was proportional to the rest of her face, were intensely green, nearly emerald. It was those eyes that made him unsure of how old she was. While her face seemed like a child's, her eyes were far older, almost wiser.

Nobel walked forward and gathered Aspen up into a hug. 'I'm going to miss you,' he said quietly.

'I miss you already, Uncle,' she replied into his shoulder. They stood apart. 'You'll come to visit on Earth soon?'

'I'll try to. You know how busy archaeology is, especially here,' he tried to say in an upbeat tone, but Archer could hear something else behind it. Aspen may or may not have heard it as well. If she did, it did not show on her face. 'Well then,' Nobel turned back to Archer and Travis. 'Shall we be off?'

'I guess so,' Archer said, still puzzling over Aspen. Even with the knowledge that she had Asperger's Syndrome, she was a bit a mystery to him, and he for one was not all that fond of any kind of mystery. They walked back through the forest, Aspen carrying her backpack and Nobel carrying the suitcase. Upon arrival at the pod, Travis got in to initiate the start-up sequence for the pod. Archer got in, turned to get the suitcase from Nobel, and set it down on the floor. He looked out the door at Aspen and her uncle.

'_Slán leat_,' Nobel said.

'_Mar sin leat_,' Aspen replied. After another quick hug, Aspen turned and climbed into the pod. Nobel shut the door behind her. As the pod took off, Aspen looked out of the window at her uncle and her home, rapidly growing smaller.

**TBC**

So Aspen is finally introduced! And I mean what I wrote about all of those famous people possibly having Asperger's Syndrome.

Need I say it? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please.


	5. Delayed

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** Up to "Kir'Shara" and some details from later episodes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

CHAPTER FIVE

'Thank you, Captain, for taking me to Earth,' a small, light voice said. Archer turned to look at Aspen.

'You're welcome,' he said with a smile he had not used in what felt like years. The smile that had disappeared from existence when the Xindi probe cut the Swath from Florida to Venezuela, and Enterprise went into the Delphic Expanse.

'Do you know how long it will be until we arrive at Earth?'

'Not for sure,' Archer began, doing some quick calculations in his head. 'But probably not longer than two weeks or so.'

'That is far faster than the shuttle ride over here,' Aspen commented.

'How long have you been on Vega IX,' Travis asked from the pilot's seat.

'Just for the summer. Uncle Michael asked that my parents come with him on his team to investigate Ignotus. We were to return to home in a fortnight or so.' She looked worried as she said this.

'Space traveling at your age is pretty rare. You don't look older than 14,' Archer said, trying to break the ice.

'I'm actually 16, nearly 17. As for why I came here,' she shrugged. 'My parents are both here, and I have a passion for history and archaeology,' she added with a small smile. 'My parents and uncle thought–'

A light flashed on the front console, accompanied by a small beep. 'We're being hailed, sir,' Travis said.

'Answer it,' Archer said. When the frequency was open, a hurried, no-nonsense voice rang out sharply from the comm.

'This is the Vegan Shipping Administration. Unidentified spacecraft, turn back immediately and land at these coordinates.'

'This is Captain Archer of the star-ship _Enterprise_. We were granted permission by Prime Minister Svensson–'

'Turn back immediately or you will be detained,' voice said tersely. Archer was about to speak again when something grabbed the pod none too gently and pulled it.

'Grappler hook,' Archer muttered under his breath. Already out the window, he could see a ship pulling them into its bay. _Enterprise_ would see them, would demand to know what was going on. He glanced back at Aspen. She wasn't panicking yet, but her eyes expressed her apprehension.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'I sincerely apologize for this misunderstanding,' Svensson said with next to no sincerity. 'I neglected to inform the shipping office that your shuttle was authorized–'

'I don't care that you forgot to let them know!' Archer half-shouted. He glared fiercely at the compic of the prime minister. 'I'm under orders from Starfleet Command to transport Aspen Graybiel to Earth, in the interest of maintaining good relations between Earth and its sovereign colonies,' he said, rattling off Admiral Gardner's exact words.

'I understand, Captain. I've sent a message to the manager of the shipping office approving your departure. Again, I apologize for this misunderstanding.' Svensson signed off before Archer could reply.

'Save your breath,' Archer grumbled at the blank screen. For a moment, he just sat at the desk with the comm console and thought back a few months. He and the senior staff, save T'Pol, had been playing a game of basketball in Launch Bay 2 when they got the news that the United Earth Embassy on Vulcan had been bombed. 43 people, including Admiral Forrest, were killed. The coffins were put in the very shuttle bay that they had been using as a basketball court.

Maxwell Forrest. They'd known each other for over ten years. Forrest had overseen the Warp Two and Warp Five Projects, specifically chosen him to captain Enterprise, acted as the middleman between Starfleet Command and _Enterprise_. Not that Admiral Gardner was incompetent; he just was not as involved as Forrest. Commander Williams and Admirals Black and Leonard were not either. He needed Forrest, needed his level-headed guidance and support. But he was gone, to where Archer did not know.

Pushing aside the memories, he stood up and walked out of the private room where visitors could use compics. The white-blue sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Vegan Shipping Administration as Vega set over the ocean. Archer wished he had the time to enjoy seeing a sunset, no matter which star was setting. He quickened his pace and went through another door to a waiting room. Travis sat quietly near a large desk. At the desk sat a grey-haired man. The name plate on the desk said 'Adam Steinberg, Secretary'. Aspen stood off to one corner, looking at a large painting on the wall.

'The prime minister said that he "sincerely apologized for the misunderstanding,"' Archer said to Travis as he sat down heavily next to him. 'He forgot to let them know that we had his okay to fly in the atmosphere.'

'That's it? With all due respect, sir, they locked a grappler on and towed us in for that,' Travis asked incredulously.

'Somehow, the answer is yes.' Archer sat for a few seconds before jumping to his feet and pacing. He could not sit still for long. He walked to the doors he had just come through, then over to the far wall where Aspen stood. Back and forth, despite the annoyed glare Steinberg was giving him. Archer did not care if he wore a hole in the carpet; he had to pace in order to think.

He was beginning to downright despise the Vegan colonial government. Something about them did not feel right. He thought back to the conversation he had with Svensson when Enterprise first arrived. Svensson mentioned something about transporting Aspen up. He had back-pedaled when Archer pointed out that they were going to use a shuttle pod, but the slipup was still disquieting. Archer still secretly regarded the transporter as a last-ditch effort, especially after the last disaster. That tragedy would haunt him for the rest of his life. Seeing Quinn as a deadly spatial distortion was horrifying enough. Watching him come back through the transporter, looking the same age he had when he had tested his father's sub-quantum transporter, knowing that he would be dead within seconds of rematerialisation, that image would be in his nightmares forever. And just when he was getting used to the damn thing!

He was on his umpteenth lap by now, and the secretary was giving him a positively lethal look. Archer looked over at Aspen. She was still staring at the painting. He stopped pacing next to her and actually looked at the picture. It looked something like a pentagon with a tree growing in and around it. There were words in another language on each side of the polygon. "What do you suppose it is," Archer asked, trying to make some conversation. Aspen didn't respond; Steinberg did.

'It is our planet's emblem,' he said as he stood and walked over to join them. 'The words are in Latin, one for each continent.' Without pausing for Archer or Aspen to comment, he spoke again. 'For Domus, "Praegressus et custodio." For Ventus, "Terribilem, tamen alieni, pulchritudo funestum." For Frux, "Paradisi felicitate, mirum pacem." For Diluculo, "Ignis et gelu, stupore gloriam." For Ignotus, "Mysterium, curiositas, intellectus."' He recited the dictums with practiced rhythm, almost with religious fervour.

Everyone else looked at him like he was off his rocker. The man's elation was cut off by a buzzer at his desk. "Manager Krell will see Captain Archer and Miss Graybiel now," the secretary said, all traces of his rapture gone. He walked over to the desk, pressed a button under the top and the door next to him unlocked.

'What about my helmsman,' Archer asked.

'He can wait out here,' Steinberg said indifferently, sitting back down. Archer looked back at Travis. He was just feeling a little paranoid about splitting up.

'It's alright, sir. I'll see if the Horizon is in orbit,' Travis said reassuringly. Archer decided to leave it at that, but half of his mind was trying to convince the other half that nothing would happen. Travis could take care of himself, the pragmatic side argued. But something bad always happens when you split up, the unreasonable side countered.

He gave up the internal arguing when he and Aspen entered the office. It literally resembled a forest more than anything. Full-grown trees like birches, maples, elms and oaks were actually growing inside. Or outside. The office was actually outdoors in a courtyard of sorts; only a small canopy stood over a desk near the centre of the "forest."

At the desk sat a petite young woman with strawberry-blonde hair and intensely blue eyes. Not the un-humanly blue of Phlox's eyes, or unfathomable but pleasant like Aspen's eyes, but penetrating, like she was assessing his every fault. 'Welcome, Captain. I am Dolores Krell, and I apologize for the inconvenience.'

'So am I,' Archer said. That remark seemed to irk her, but she brushed it off.

'Please, sit down,' she said, motioning to two chairs in front of the desk. Archer and Aspen took their seats. 'We had not yet received the prime minister's message that you were authorized to travel to and from Ignotus. Air travel is restricted to the atmosphere over Domus for security reasons,' she added at Archer's confused look.

'May I ask what those reasons are,' Archer ventured.

'I'm not at liberty to discuss that. But, on to other issues.' Krell turned to Aspen. 'You are Aspen Graybiel? Daughter of Jeremy and Anna Graybiel?'

'Yes, ma'am,' Aspen answered quietly. Her eyes darted around, like she was afraid to hold Krell's gaze for too long.

'Your uncle, Dr Michael Nobel, is the leader of Science Team Ignotus-Four, correct?' Aspen answered affirmatively again, still looking intimidated. "Approximately two weeks ago, eleven of your fifteen team complement was stricken with Vegan choriomeningitis."

"That's right. As soon as he found out, my uncle put himself and the others that caught it in isolation. My parents are–"

"Yes, yes, we know," Krell said brusquely, before leaning forward and making the inquiry even more intense. "And you are sure that you, and your belongings, are in no way infected with VCM?"

Aspen looked her directly in the eye, all apprehension gone. "Yes ma'am. Dr Yee, the physician sent to treat us, personally saw to the decontamination. Just before I left, he performed another examination and cleared myself and my belongings." She handed the manager a data card, which Krell snatched up. 'That's a copy of his report.'

Krell put the card into her computer, and quickly glanced over the statement. 'Very well. I will dispatch this to the Medical Administration right away. You'll have to wait here until they come to a decision.'

'Decision?' Aspen and Archer asked simultaneously.

'Yes. They have to decide if the quarantine can be temporarily lifted. It shouldn't take long, I assure you.' Even with that, Archer had the distinct feeling that they'd be here for a long time.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

Archer had given up pacing a long time ago and was now fitfully napping in a chair. Travis talked to his family on board the Horizon, which did happen to be in orbit, for a few hours. He had returned a few minutes ago, looking anxious to get back to _Enterprise_. Aspen was reading a book on her PADD.

So they waited. And waited. Archer awoke with a sore neck, not feeling any more at ease. Finally, Krell came out of, or in from, her office. 'You may go now,' she said stiffly. 'The Medical Administration has advised that you be allowed to proceed.'

Archer stood and walked out of the room, followed by Aspen and Travis, not trusting himself to say a word to Krell.

**TBC**

Hoping this chapter characterises Aspen a little bit better.

Of course, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please.


	6. On Enterprise

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** Up to "Kir'Shara" and some details from later episodes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

Sorry I took so long to update! I've been on vacation, and typing an entire chapter up on the move is no picnic. My humblest apologies to all my readers, whether you leave a review or not.

Please don't anyone get upset, but I might not be able to update again for quite a while!

CHAPTER SIX

The pod was practically silent the entire trip up to _Enterprise_. Aside from a few exchanges with Travis, Archer spent the time getting his temper under control. In perspective, the whole incident was not worth getting upset over. Bureaucrats always beat around the bush in one way or another, it seemed. Star-ship captains, he had learned, were expected to be part-explorer and part-politician. For every world they discovered, if they were allowed to officially make contact, there was invariably some form of government to negotiate with. Sometimes it went well, sometimes it went badly.

Dammit, he'd completely forgotten about decon! If they did not bring anything back, they would be out in no time. But if they had picked up any trace of VCM or something else, Phlox would make them rub some gel all over. By now, he and Travis were used to doing that, but Aspen? Disrobing in the company of complete strangers would be bad enough. But allowing one of those complete strangers, men considerably older than she was, to apply lotion to her back would be downright mortifying.

He puzzled over what to do, and did not even notice that they were nearing _Enterprise_ until Travis hailed them. '_Shuttle-pod One_ to _Enterprise_. Ready to deploy the docking arm?'

'_Coming down already, Travis_,' Trip's voice rang out from the comm. As the arm attached to the hull and pulled the pod into the launch bay, Archer made a quick decision to his predicament: if all else failed, he would ask Hoshi or another woman to come into decon to help Aspen. Not his top choice, but it was better than him or Travis having to help.

'Doors closed and deck re-pressurised, sir,' Travis said as he turned and stood up from the pilot's chair, ducking a little. Archer stood and ducked as well. He walked back to the door on the roof and opened it, then stepping back to allow Aspen to go first.

'Thank you,' Aspen said before standing as well. She pulled her pack on to her shoulders and stooped to pick up her suitcase, but Archer took it instead. 'Thank you, sir,' she said, giving him a small smile. She turned and climbed the ladder, then the staircase that dropped from the deck above the launch bay. Archer followed, navigating as best as he could with the suitcase. It was not bulky, but the stairs were steep. Aspen waited at the top. Archer led the way to decon, putting the bag on the floor next to one of the benches. Phlox waited at the window to the corridor, his usual smile on his face.

'Welcome back, Captain, Mr Mayweather, Miss Graybiel,' Phlox said.

'Hey, Doc,' Archer said absentmindedly, still fretting about the potential embarrassment he, and Aspen, might have to endure.

'Hey,' Travis replied, though not with his usual enthusiasm. He had been a little quiet ever since returning from speaking with his family.

'Hello,' Aspen said pleasantly. She was not startled by Phlox's appearance, unlike quite a few of the guests _Enterprise_ had entertained over the years.

Phlox glanced at the bio-scans on the screen outside. "No unexpected guests this time. You are free to go, although I would like to see you in sickbay, Miss Graybiel, if you please. Just a more detailed scan to make absolutely sure you did not bring anything back with you."

"I will come," she said. Phlox closed the door on the outside of the window, and the full-sized door next to it opened.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

The doors slid close behind Hoshi and Aspen, leaving Phlox to feed his menagerie. 'Just as I hoped: no traces of VCM. But she seemed quite amiable, don't you think so,' he asked his Pyrithian bat as he dropped snow beetles into her cage. 'I have only read about that condition she described.' He moved on to another cage, the occupant of this one completely covered by the foliage inside. 'To be honest, I would not have even guessed that she had any type of autism.' The animal inside pounced on the food he dropped in amongst the leaves with a squeak like it was agreeing with him. This was one of the things he appreciated about his animals. Not only did they serve one purpose or another in medicine, but he could talk to them about his patients without violating doctor-patient confidentiality.

When his chores were completed, Phlox put the containers of food away and sat down at his computer to begin a medical report for Aspen. Her height, weight, eye color, (astonishingly green, almost as intriguing as Rajiin's had been a year ago), autism, all the generalities. When that was completed, he left Sickbay at a none-too-hurried pace for his quarters on C-deck. He had a few other things to take care of before the party in the mess hall.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Here's your quarters,' Hoshi said as she and Aspen went through the door. She watched as Aspen placed the suitcase and pack on the bed. Like Archer, Hoshi was not quite sure what to make of their guest either. Aspen was quite a bit younger than Hoshi thought she would be. Her hair color was almost the same shade as Hoshi's, and she was taller, but her eyes were jade green and larger than her own. 'Do you need anything else? Some help unpacking maybe?'

'Yes, please,' Aspen said. She opened the suitcase. Inside were a few changes of clothes and a small bag of toiletries. Hoshi knelt and opened a drawer underneath the bunk. They began to stow Aspen's belongings in them.

There was something else about Aspen that made her just seem different from most other humans Hoshi had met. To be frank, Aspen reminded her of Malcolm more than anyone: quiet, courteous, discreet. Malcolm had gotten more comfortable with the rest of the crew over the years. Perhaps Aspen would as well during the short time she was here.

Aspen then opened the pack and pulled several PADDs and hard copy books out. Large books, the smallest about six centimetres thick, which obviously contained more than one volume each: _The Lord of the Rings_, _The Chronicles of Narnia_, _The Odyssey_, _The Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Blue Sunsets and Rod-Berries, _and _The Provost Guard_. She began to put these in the second drawer.

'What's on the PADDs, if you don't mind my asking?' For a moment, Aspen's face turned slightly confused, like she wasn't sure how to answer. The confusion lasted for a second or two, leaving as quickly as it had come.

'Books, movies, music. I keep hard copies of these,' she waved a hand at the books, 'because they're my favourites.'

'Hey, some of the crewmembers organised a welcome party for you. You're the first new face we've seen in a long time, and everyone would like to meet you.' Aspen looked a little nervous when Hoshi mentioned this. 'Don't worry, we don't bite,' she reassured. Aspen smiled a little half-grin at this joke. 'Well, I've got some stuff to do, but I'll come back in an hour to take you to the party.'

'Alright. I've got enough to keep me busy here.'

'Okay, see you then.' Hoshi started for the door, then got a brain spark and turned back. 'Hey, would you like to go on a tour of the ship? I could ask the captain if I could show you around.'

Aspen truly grinned this time. 'I would love that!'

**TBC**

Kinda short this time, sorry! As I said, it is highly unlikely that I will update any sooner than two weeks or so from now. I'll try to keep it from stretching it into a month again, however!


	7. Getting Ready for the Party

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** Up to "Kir'Shara" and some details from later episodes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

CHAPTER SEVEN

The door chimed again, but Malcolm could not answer it right away. The doorbell rang again, this time a bit more insistently. He heard someone drawl, 'Malcolm, if you don't open the door in five seconds, I'll hotwire open myself.' Clad in only skivvies and the regulation turtleneck, Malcolm opened the door. 'Two seconds to spare.' Trip had been serious about his threat, having brought his favourite hyper-spanner. 'Are you comin' or not?'

'Just have to finish getting dressed,' Malcolm said, pulling a fresh uniform out of the closet. Trip followed him in and plunked down in the desk chair.

'Now hang on a minute. Hoshi wants everyone to wear civvies.' Now Malcolm saw what Trip was wearing: one of his ludicrously garish t-shirts, this one tie-dyed purple and green.

'What do you suggest I wear then?' Malcolm asked nonchalantly. Trip stood up, went over to Malcolm's closet, and pulled out some of the civilian clothes Malcolm had on board the ship. There were a few pairs of pants, some solid-colour t-shirts and a leather jacket from his sister, Madeline. He unceremoniously dumped these on the floor.

'Di'n't you used to have a white suit,' Trip asked, digging through the uniforms left in the closet.

'Too ostentatious,' Malcolm replied. 'Besides, I lost it.'

Trip stepped out of the closet to stare at Malcolm. 'Exactly how did you, Mr Perfection, lose a whole dinner suit?'

Malcolm's gaze didn't waver for a moment as he simply said, 'Subterranean gardens.' That shut Trip up. 'I'd rather wear these at any rate,' Malcolm went on, pulling a red tee and some slacks out of the messy pile of clothes Trip had made. He looked them over carefully. 'You couldn't just leave the clothes on the hangers. You had to toss them all on the floor and get them wrinkled.'

'Hey, I don't see a wrinkle on them.' He was right: the clothes had been in the closet for so long that they didn't get rumpled right away. The two of them bent down, picked up the clothes, and began to put them back on hangers. 'Besides, it's about time these shirts saw the light of day.'

'Light of day on a star-ship,' Malcolm mused as he put the last of the clothes back in the closet and started to put the t-shirt and slacks on. 'And in quarters without windows, no less.'

Trip threw his hands up in mock defeat. 'Alright, alright. I concede that round.' He waited until Malcolm tugged his shoes on. 'Ready?'

'Ready as I'll ever be.'

'What do you have to be so worried about,' Trip asked.

Malcolm glanced at him before fixing his gaze on the deck. He always did that when he was about to divulge personal information. 'I've just never been entirely comfortable with meeting new people. Especially women,' he added.

'Malcolm, it won't be that bad.' Malcolm gave him a doleful look. 'It's not as if you have to talk to her much. Just come, say hello, and that's it. Chances are she'll have more than enough people who want to talk to her.' Malcolm did not say anything, just stared at the deck, lost in thought.

'Alright then,' Malcolm said as he made for the door. 'The sooner we go, the sooner it'll be over.'

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

T'Pol waited patiently for the turbo-lift to come. She observed Hoshi's request for civilian clothes, wearing garments without an _Enterprise_ duty patch sewn into the arm or commander pips on the shoulder. To most people on board the ship, she appeared to be as calm and collected as ever. But a few, those who knew her well, would be able to see past her mask. They would know that she was still unsettled by the invasion.

And why shouldn't she be? The last time her mind was invaded in such a way… She shuddered inwardly. The look on Tolaris's face, as he revelled in her fear and powerlessness, still haunted her. The damage he inflicted was healed by T'Pau, but she was still adverse to any mental contact.

Quickly, she went through her mental connections as she had done several times in the past three days. She still got the same answer: there was nothing out of the ordinary. The damage from Tolaris's assault was healed. The places where she knew the other presence had touched her mind were also clean.

Suddenly, she felt…something else. It didn't feel dangerous, just new and, at the same time, as if it had been there all her life. But just as unexpectedly as she had felt it, it was gone.

Whatever it was, she had no time to investigate, for the lift arrived. She got in and was about to close the door when Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed came down the hall. 'Good evening,' T'Pol said as they got in. Both men murmured greetings in return. Trip looked her over discreetly. He was about to ask why she was wearing her uniform when he noticed that she didn't have commanders pips or the Starfleet patch on.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Well, I think that's about it,' Elizabeth said as she, Hoshi, and Aspen put the finishing touches on the table. Chef put the last of the hors d'oeuvres in the display case and made sure that the drink dispenser was fully stocked.

He suddenly sniffed the air and started toward the galley at a run. 'The cake's burning!' After a few seconds, the three women heard the oven door slam shut and something metallic drop on to the counter.

'Can you salvage it,' Hoshi called back.

'Yes, only the edges are crispy.'

The doors opened, and Phlox came through. 'Ah, good evening, ladies.' He glanced around. 'Am I the first one here?'

'Yeah, but they'll be others.' Liz said. 'Ethan wouldn't stop going on about how we needed a party every once in a while.'

'Oh, I know. Katie Porter from astrometrics was so excited, too.' Hoshi glanced back at Aspen, who stood by the window. She was about to ask how she felt when the voice of Ensign Bernhard Müller called out over the intraship comm.

'Tactical alert. All hands to stations. Repeat, Tactical alert.' Instantly, Elizabeth and Hoshi started for the door, but Hoshi turned around.

'Phlox, take Aspen to sickbay. It'll be safer there.'

'Of course,' Phlox said. Aspen came to him on shaky legs. A shock ran through the ship. Stumbling, the Denobulan and the human made their way toward sickbay, at the centre of the ship.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

Still clad in the t-shirt and slacks, Malcolm shot out of the lift as soon as the door opened on to the bridge, with Trip and T'Pol following close behind. Müller vacated the tactical station, allowing Malcolm to take up the defence of the ship. Archer came through one of the doors that led to a Jefferies tube. 'What's firing at us?' he asked Malcolm as another shot knocked him off balance and threw him into the centre seat. The view-screen was filled the image of a ship.

It was quite small, but it gyrated and spun through space in extremely tight turns. Dark red in colour, even Archer could see it was armed to the teeth with weapons. 'A small cruiser, about six meters in length. Unknown configuration,' Malcolm read off of his display. 'Müller already polarised the hull plating; otherwise, we–' A third shot punched into the hull, tossing Travis and Hoshi out of the turbo-lift. They got up and took their stations without pausing.

'Travis, evasive manoeuvres. Hoshi, hail them,' Archer rattled off.

'They're answering, sir. Audio only,' Hoshi said. Now that was new.

'Put 'em on.' The air was filled with a language Archer did not recognize, or could even hope to translate. Clicks intermixed with long, drawn-out sounds filled the air. Hoshi immediately began to translate.

'They're on a mission. Orders to exterminate the threat. Submit or be destroyed. It's Coridanite, sir,' she concluded.

'Will they negotiate,' Archer asked.

'More coming, Captain: absolutely non-negotiable terms, submit or be destroyed.'

'That answers that,' Malcolm said darkly from across the bridge.

'Malcolm, take out their weapons.' A look of concentration came to the tactical officer's face as he plotted exactly where to target the phase cannons and torpedoes. Another barrage from the Coridanites smashed into the hull.

'Hull plating down to 73%. Their weapons are going down, though,' Malcolm said, looking confused. The ship on the screen was indeed damaged, leaking some kind of plasma in several different places. However, it shot off at breakneck speed, going from no forward velocity to warp in little less than a few seconds.

'Where will that trajectory take them?' Archer got up and stormed over to Malcolm's station.

'Past Vega, sir.' Archer started to walk away when Malcolm said, 'Captain?' He stopped. 'I didn't knock out their weapons, sir. They went down before I could get a decent lock on them.' For a few moments, no one spoke. Only the chimes of incoming reports could be heard.

Suddenly, the comm on the centre seat rang. 'Sickbay to Captain.'

Archer stalked down to the chair. 'Archer.'

'I need you in sickbay immediately.' Archer didn't ask for any more information. He entered the turbo-lift in a huff.

He wasn't mad at his crew, just himself. Just like the mission with Ambassador V'Lar, this one was spiralling out of control!

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Why did you contact the beings on the ship?'

'I did not engage communication with any of them. Most of their minds were not compatible.'

'But you spoke through one of them to the leader.'

'She was the only one I made use of. Some of the other minds may have suited my needs as adequately as hers, but they were not accustomed. I chose her because her mind would suffer the least, if any, damage. As you know, there was no damage whatsoever.'

'There is no need for another.'

'And if the plan fails? We will be unable to communicate with them. It will be some time before we find another that is suitable.'

'Your argument is valid, but the decision stands. Moreover, it was unwise to cause the other ship to malfunction.'

'Unwise to stop them from destroying any hope we have for survival?'

'It was unwise to cause a malfunction in their weapons that their instruments, or the instruments of the human ship, cannot explain.'

'The devices on both ships are defective and crude. Neither will learn the truth.'

**TBC**

While I was writing this chapter, I remembered reading something about Elizabeth Cutler on Memory Alpha. She appeared in "Strange New World", "Dear Doctor", and "Two Days, Two Nights", and was mentioned in "Anomaly" before she disappeared off the show. It turns out Kellie Waymire, the actress who played her, died of an undiagnosed irregular heartbeat in 2003. The writers didn't want to recast the role, so they just never used Cutler again in an episode.

Again, I AM SO SO SO SORRY that I have updating at a garden snail's pace, but real life is keeping me away!

Haven't said it in a while, but REVIEW REIVEW REVIEW! Please.


	8. Warning

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** Up to "Kir'Shara" and some details from later episodes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

Before anything else, I want to apologize for not updating in a timely fashion! I can't promise that it will never happen again, but I will try my best.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Archer hurried to sickbay, half-expecting to find it overcrowded after such an attack. He looked through the frosted glass doors with the medical caduceus on them. Strangely, the room was mostly empty. Only two of the beds were occupied, and they held living people. He could tell this by the medics, among them Phlox, clustered around each bio-bed, and by the fact that the patients were not completely covered by sheets.

He suddenly realized that he was still standing at the doors. He pressed the button that slid the doors open. Phlox turned to when he heard the doors and extricated himself from the group, his face grave. 'Thank you, Captain, for your promptness.'

'What happened to them?' Archer only had eyes for the patients. He could not recognize their faces. One, a man from the operations division, was covered with ice particles and his eyes were rimmed red. The other, a young woman, had a breathing mask on and a blanket around her. Both appeared to be asleep or unconscious.

'Crewman Rostov was on G-deck when the hull was breached. The emergency bulkheads closed before he was blown out, but he suffered rapid decompression and temperature change. You yourself went through a similar experience a few months ago,' Phlox informed him quietly. 'We're working to raise his body temperature; he will be fine.'

Suddenly, Archer recognized the young woman. 'Aspen!' he whispered. Phlox moved toward the counter and indicated that he should follow. Archer did so. They went around the corner where Phlox stopped.

'We were in the Mess Hall when the ship was attacked. I was bringing Miss Graybiel with me to sickbay when she suddenly collapsed.'

'Do you know why?' Archer asked bitterly.

'No. She simply dropped. There is nothing in her medical report about fainting spells or any reference to an illness that could cause this.'

'What about her autism, or VCM?' Phlox firmly shook his head.

'No. I ruled out those possibilities right away. It is possible that Aspen fainted from fright. Captain, I cannot explain why she is still unconscious; there is no reason why she should not be awake at this moment.'

'What do you mean "she should be awake"?'

'If she fainted from fright, we would have been able to awaken her. Additionally, her brain scans indicate that she is in a very deep sleep, not unconscious. However, her respiratory rate has dropped so far we've been forced to use a breathing apparatus. She is stable, but there is nothing I can do that will awaken her.'

'Do what you can,' Archer said after a few moments of silence, save for the murmurs across the room. 'I have to go back up to the bridge.'

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Why are we in here for this,' Trip asked. 'There's way more room on the Bridge.'

Archer just sighed as he sat down at his desk in the Ready Room, gesturing for Trip and Malcolm to sit as well. 'Malcolm? You're the one who recommended coming here.'

'I have a –a suspicion about our attackers that I didn't want to voice publically.' He pulled out a PADD and passed it to Archer. Trip stood up and looked at it as well.

'I won't say were lucky to be in one piece, but that wa'n't no cakewalk,' Trip said. 'There's 2 little breaches in the hull, plus that one that nearly spaced Rostov.'

'What I find disconcerting is that all of the breaches are on G-deck,' Malcolm said, zeroing in on that deck. 'What's more, the alien ship fired four shots at us; all of them hit within six metres of this room.'

'Those are Aspen's quarters,' Archer realized suddenly.

'What? You think they were tryin' to kill her,' Trip asked no one in particular.

'It would appear so,' Malcolm said grimly, 'But then I wondered why they shot there.' 

'You just said that they were tryin' to kill Aspen!' Trip sat back down heavily.

'I did, Trip, but they could have easily seen on scanners that there weren't any bio-signs in the room.'

'Unless they didn't have scanners,' Archer conjectured. 'So, what does this all add up to? A ship with a configuration we don't recognize, loaded up with weapons, no scanners, and a Coridanite on the comm talking about a mission of some sort.' They sat in silence for a minute, each man thinking about what it could mean.

Then the comm dinged. 'Sickbay to Archer.'

'Archer.'

'Aspen awakened a few minutes ago. She says, and I quote, it is imperative that she speak to you and Lieutenant Reed as soon as you are able.'

'Speak with the two of us?' Archer asked. He looked over to Malcolm. He looked just as confused. 'Did she say why?'

'No, but she is quite insistent.'

Archer sighed. 'We'll be down there. Archer out.' All three of them stood.

'I'll get my team started on patching,' Trip said.

'Go ahead,' Archer muttered as he walked out the door. He didn't see the look of reassurance that Trip gave to Malcolm.

No one said a word as they crossed the Bridge and got into the lift. Then Trip said, 'Why would Aspen want a word with you two?'

'I don't know,' Archer said brusquely. Then, in a mellower tone, 'She doesn't seem like the type of person who thinks the world revolves around her. Whatever it is, she probably has a good reason.' The doors opened on D-deck, allowing Trip to exit for Main Engineering.

'I'll catch up with you later,' he called back. Archer and Malcolm continued on. It was a short walk from the turbo-lift to Sickbay on E-deck.

A now-defrosted Rostov lay on a bed next to the imaging chamber, sleeping. A curtain was drawn around the bed furthest away. 'Please follow me.' Phlox led them to the curtain and opened it enough for them to enter.

Aspen, awake as the doctor said she was, regarded them with those large, solemn green eyes. Her face was slightly pallid, but aside from that she bore no ill effects from her faint. She sat on the bed, propped up with some pillows and a blanket covering her from the waist down. 'Thank you for coming,' she said quietly, looking each of them in the eye as she spoke.

'Why did you ask for us,' Archer queried.

'Because I believe I know who was in the ship that attacked _Enterprise_.' Before any of them could speak, she continued. 'They were attempting to capture, if not kill, me. In any case, their orders were to render me unable to take the information I have to Starfleet.'

Malcolm was the first to break the silence that followed. 'Why should whoever they were have wanted to kill you? And what information?'

Aspen sighed. 'This could take some time.'

'We're not going anywhere,' Archer said hesitantly. Phlox brought some chairs.

'Will Mr Rostov hear us,' Aspen asked him respectfully as they sat down.

'No, he is sedated,' Phlox replied. Whatever he thought about Aspen's declaration, he kept it to himself.

'Thank you.' Aspen looked down, as if unsure of how to start. 'It came to the attention of my uncle some time ago that–' She stopped again. Her eyes lost focus, and her breath came in a quiet gasp.

'I'm sorry, Captain, but I cannot allow this to go on,' Phlox said. 'The strain is–'

'Wait.' Everyone looked back at Aspen. She looked even more waxen than she had seconds before, but determined. 'Doctor, I must be allowed to finish. I fear that the lives of billions are at stake.'

'How so?' Archer asked carefully. This young lady had been slightly unnerving ever since he met her. The past few minutes had not diminished his anxiety one iota; if anything, it had increased.

'The Vegan colonial government is working to expel all of the non-human inhabitants on the planet. If necessary, they will be killed.' With that, her eyes closed and she slumped back.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Captain's personal log. Any doubts I had about this being an unordinary mission went out the window this past day. After the short, confusing battle, Phlox called and said that Aspen wanted to speak with Malcolm and me. She talked about something with the Vegan colonial government wanting to "expel all non-human inhabitants," even by means of killing them before she fainted.

'From personal experience, I know that the Vegan government is an inefficient, bordering ineffective administration. But what our passenger suggests is unbelievable.' He would have continued, had the chime on the door to his quarters not sounded. 'Computer, pause. Come in,'

he said. The door slid open and Aspen walked in, her face blank. 'Aspen, what–'

'I'm sorry, Captain, but I am not Aspen Graybiel.' Something in her voice had changed. The timbre was lower than it had been. It almost sounded ancient, like the voice of a far older woman merged with that of Aspen's. Her eyes, green as ever, were also changed somehow. It was like looking into the eyes of a thousand-year-old ghost.

'Then who are you?' Archer asked tightly. 'What have you done to Aspen?!'

'To answer your second question, our emissary is in no danger. For your first, it is not "who" I am that you should ask; it is more of a question of "what."'

**TBC**

Once more, I am SO SO SO sorry that I did not update sooner! Real life's been a bit of a roller coaster, albeit an exhilarating one. I'm also sorry to leave you hanging like this, but I'll be back as soon as RL permits it.

On a side note, I'm thinking about writing a one-shot for DMRM. With any luck, it will be on the site before November is over!

And of course, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please.


	9. The Dìomhran

**Title:** Mystery of the Dìomhran

**Author:** Minch

**Spoilers:** Up to "Kir'Shara" and some details from later episodes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek; Paramount does. I'm not doing this for my health, or making one red cent off of it. I'm writing because I have a boundless imagination that needs to be taken out for exercise every now and then!

*peeks out, sheepishly waving a white flag* Hello. Good Lord, even I didn't expect the next update to take this long!

I know, I posted Chapter Nine last Christmas. While I was reacquainting myself with my own story, (oh the embarrassment), I found several typos and continuity errors that I just had to fix. The previous eight chapters have been reposted, but they are more or less the same. However, the original Chapter Nine wasn't taking the story where I needed it to go, so I scrapped it a while ago and am now reposting it. I highly recommend rereading the entire story, thanks to my inability to post updates in a timely matter.

One more thing: this chapter is a lot of talk and not much action. Sorry! Next one will definitely have more goings-on.

CHAPTER NINE

At first, Archer was extremely doubtful that the being that possessed Aspen did not wish _Enterprise _harm. The memory at the forefront of his mind was the Wisps. They too had claimed to be harmless, with ulterior motives. But as the being continued the tale, he became all the more convinced.

'I have to tell my crew, you know,' Archer said, entirely bewildered by the news the being had delivered.

'If you wish, I can tell them exactly as I told you,' the being –if she had a name, she would not say– said. 'Who should I tell?' 

'Well,' Archer stood up from his chair and started pacing. 'T'Pol for sure, Malcolm, Trip, maybe Phlox.'

'I suggest Ensigns Mayweather and Sato.' When Archer looked at her with the obvious question on his face, she answered, 'Ensign Mayweather may have something to say about the Vegan government. And I understand that Ensign Sato is a linguist?'

'Yes,' Archer replied tightly.

'She may be of use in discussion as well. And, Captain Archer?' He looked at her directly. Her eyes were still chillingly unfathomable but now they were softer, almost consoling. 'Aspen took on the responsibility of being our emissary willingly, if that is what troubles you. She was not forced into doing anything.'

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

'Why is the captain calling us to the conference room?'

'Search me, I have absolutely no idea,' Malcolm replied. In his mind, he replayed the conversation that had taken place in sickbay. Even after finally meeting Aspen, he was still slightly unnerved by her and her sea green eyes. Her information was just as troubling.

'He called down to engineering a few minutes ago, ordered a full stop on the engines. Then he told me to beat it up to the conference room. Wouldn't say why, though. Hey, Hoshi.' They both smiled in greeting as the ensign joined them.

'The captain just called me. Wants me in the conference room for something,' Hoshi said as she fell in stride with the two men.

'That's where we're heading, too,' Trip said.

'Any idea what it's about?'

'Not a clue.'

'I wonder if it has something to do with Miss Graybiel,' Malcolm thought out loud as they arrived at the door of the conference room. Two security guards stood armed at the door. They allowed the group to enter.

The room was eerily quiet. Even the normal sounds of _Enterprise_ seemed muted. Archer sat in his usual spot, a look of determination coupled with anxiety on his face. T'Pol, Travis, and Phlox sat to one side. T'Pol appeared calm. Travis just looked at the table unhappily, like he had some bad news. Phlox's face showed a restrained fury, his eyes fixed on the person who sat on the other side.

Aspen looked straight ahead, her face impassive, and yet somehow serene. To Malcolm she looked far healthier than she had in sickbay but what had she done to make Phlox so angry?

Hoshi sat down beside Aspen, Malcolm next to her, Trip at the foot of the table. 'Thank you all for coming so quickly,' Archer started. 'I know this is short-notice, but some,' he glanced at Aspen, 'information has come up. I've already been apprised, but you all should know, too.' With a nod to her, he let Aspen take centre stage.

Looking around at the rest of the command crew, the being told them what she told Archer, that she was not Aspen. It was a bit before the commotion, (and swearing on Trip's part), died down. Questions about the Wisps came up several times, but the being simply said, 'I am not of them.'

'Then, would you mind telling us exactly who, or what, you are?' Phlox spoke in a severe tone that Malcolm never heard him use.

'Yes: I am one of the Dìomhran and I –all of my kind–, need your help.'

Malcolm was still reeling from the disclosure that Aspen was not Aspen, that her body had been taken over. This poleaxed him. 'All of your kind? And what kind of help, exactly?' Trip asked carefully.

'I do not have the time to fully explain who we are. We are not native to Vega, but we have resided there for a long time. Like the Wisps, we evolved beyond physical bodies. Unlike them, we can control some things through our minds. Also, in order to live we must inhabit a certain area, a haunt.'

'So, you're a ghost?' Hoshi asked nervously.

'Something similar, if I understand your species' superstition correctly,' the Dìomhran replied evenly. 'We are bound to the places we inhabit; those places are our bodies, as it were. Now to fully explain why we need your help, I must tell you some of our history. We have dwelt on Vega for thousands of years, but have long since shed our physical bodies. After that, we ceased to interact with any of the species that arrived. We were aware of them, but never contacted them. They came, they stayed for a while sometimes, but they always left. But that changed in the calendar date that you call 2115.'

'The year Vega Colony was founded,' Travis realised.

'As I mentioned before, our "bodies" are haunts, areas on the planet. When humans arrived, they began to construct buildings. They did not know that the convenient field in which they built one of their structures was a haunt.' For the first time, emotion showed on the Dìomhran's face. Her face grew sorrowful at the memory. 'When the haunt was razed to the ground, the one that existed there was no more. It occurred on the continent you call Domus but all of us, all around the planet, felt the one vanish from existence. The only thing to do was to stop it from happening again.

'In retrospection, we could have chosen a more subtle approach,' she said bitterly. 'Some of your species have abilities that you would call "parapsychological," telepathy in most cases. We chose the most perceptive mind we could sense, one of the surveyors on Ignotus. One of us "possessed" him, as you would say. Through him, we told the others to stop. To say the least, they did not take it well. When we withdrew, we observed their reaction. They did not believe what we said. Not even the one we spoke through believed what he himself had said.'

'Probably scared the living daylights outta 'em,' Trip commented.

'What happened after that?' Malcolm asked quietly.

'We "put all of our eggs in one basket," as Aspen would say. We concentrated our power on causing one of us to appear in a marginally physical form. By chance, the leaders of the colony were nearby. They believed us when we told them what they were doing. They did not dismiss it as a prank. But we could not linger there. The energy required to manifest that one was too great. We fell into oblivion for a time.'

'All of the Dìomhran?' Hoshi asked, pronouncing the new word perfectly.

'All of us,' the being affirmed. 'We began to reawaken some years ago. Vega has changed since humans came, but there have been no tragedies since the one that occurred 39 of your years ago.'

'I'm still not seeing how you need our help,' Trip said. He really wanted to help, but this being was acting very vague.

'I come to that now, Commander. We have spent some time compiling information on what happened while we were unaware. It is a lengthy business when one cannot move from one's haunt. Among other things, one of the most important pieces of information that we have learned is that the Vegan colonial government has kept our existence well-concealed. In order to keep another tragedy from occurring, they made conservationism the backbone of their colony.

'So the "protect-the-environment" deal is pretence to keep you a secret?' Hoshi asked.

'Only half-pretence. They truly wanted to preserve the environment, but worked into their values a way to hide us.'

'But how do they know where you are?' Malcolm queried.

'When we manifested the one that I spoke into partial physical existence, the leaders of the colony noticed later that some of their instruments showed a disturbance of some kind. Also, they obtained a map of all the locations of all Dìomhran on the planet. This map came from the surveyor on Ignotus whom we spoke through. He was, understandably, badly disturbed by his experience. For a moment, he was a part of us –part of the worldwide consciousness of Dìomhran. He tried for years to make sense of what happened, even plotting on a map exactly where he felt the rest of us.

'Anyway, once the leaders obtained the map, they tested the sites and found the same readings. They forbade building permits on those sites. They have done this ever since, keeping the haunts undisturbed. But the Vegan colonial government is becoming steadily distrustful of not only the Dìomhran, but anything that they consider harmful to the environment.' The Dìomhran looked at Travis. 'Your family spoke of this to you, did they not, Ensign Mayweather?'

All attention turned to Travis. 'Yes. Paul was worried about the freight they were hauling not getting approved by the Vega Cargo Authority. They –the government– have always been stingy on what they'll take from freighters, but it's getting worse. Two of the _Horizon_'s sister freighters, the _Solstice_ and the _Arthurian_, were turned away when the VCA found out they were hauling Andorian silk.'

'What, is it illegal?' Trip asked.

'Not that I know of,' Travis answered.

'It is not, but some in the government believe that anything not made on Earth by humans will harm the Vegan environment in some way.'

'Well, that's contradictory,' Malcolm observed. 'They're not native to Vega themselves.'

'Yes, but the faction we are speaking of is not the most rational,' the Dìomhran concurred.

'You have not explained Miss Graybiel's involvement in this,' T'Pol prompted. It was the first time she had spoken during the meeting.

'In the simplest terms, she chose to become our emissary. Something has happened on Vega IX that compelled us to seek out one who would be our voice. I will say now that we did not appropriate her mind as we did all those years ago. Her mind is perceptive enough that we could contact her, explain our plight. She agreed to the formation of this link to my being. I am tethered to her essence, and she to mine.'

'Your information is appreciated, but you have mentioned several times that your species is in danger,' Phlox said, a little calmer than he had been.

'Yes. There is a political faction on Vega called Vega Purus that believes in protecting the environment from contaminants at any cost. The more radical side claims that non-humans are the deadliest poisons. As it happens, Dr Krell is a leader of this faction. She and her colleagues are planning a planet-wide expulsion of anyone they deem a threat, including the Dìomhran. One way or another, they found the reports of our initial contact and the map of where our haunts are. As paranoid as Dr Krell and the other leaders are, they have decided to eradicate us.'

'What does this have to do with Aspen?' Trip asked.

'She was to return to Earth with her parents and seek help from your government. Vega Purus will do anything to prevent this because they know that they will be stopped if Earth's government is involved. As a result, several attempts on her life have been made.'

'What?!' Archer asked. This was something he had not heard before.

'We know that the science team was intentionally infected with VCM, and that Dr Krell spent several hours arguing with the Medical Administration for a reason to keep Aspen on Vega. When she had none, they tried a more desperate scheme.'

'That Coridanite ship,' Malcolm realised. 'They _were_ trying to kill her!'

'That was our suspicion as well. We–' The being stopped midsentence and stood. Phlox was immediately on his feet and on his way around the table. Something seemed to strike Aspen's body and she went limp, but did not fall completely to the floor. She grabbed the back of her chair for support as Phlox ran a scanner over her.

'I am fine, Doctor, but thank you for your concern.' Aspen's voice no longer carried the same timbre. Her eyes, though still deep, did not have the same disconcerting profundity. 'I am Aspen Graybiel once more.'

**TBC**

**I have said it once, and I will say it many times more: I never intended to take almost a year to update this story. It's been one of my favourites to write, but also extremely difficult to develop. I'll do my best to update regularly, but I still have not made it back to the land of free time!**

**Thanks to all my readers!**


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